


Play For Keeps

by knightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, M/M, Mentions of sex and past relationships, Mostly short stuff from prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent/Bittle drabbles from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bombs Away

Really, Kent should have known better. The first time he’d shown up at that ramshackle hockey house had been bad enough, the feeling of Jack still being a galaxy away had been more savage than any check Kent had ever taken. Really, the whole situation had gone to shit well before that but Kent didn’t get to his point in his life knowing when to give up. The second visit… That had been worse. He just couldn’t take it anymore, his fingers hooked in the loops of Jack’s pants trying to seek out one last kiss…

Well, he’d fucked that up too. Jack didn’t need him anymore, he’d made that more than clear. He had his shitty team and his cute blondie who he could take fucking selfies with if he wanted. Kent could be just as good as not needing him as he had been for the last few years. That’s why it was a surprise when he walked into a Boston bar during a hell of a roadie and saw Jack’s blondie sitting on a stool and kicking his legs while he nursed a beer. Kent adjusted his cap a little, raising an eyebrow at the empty seat to his right and plastering on the cockiest smile in his repertoire. Jack Zimmermann may have been a war that Kent couldn’t win, but he wasn’t above a little snooping when the opportunity presented itself.

He slid onto the seat without a sound, glancing at blondie’s face with a grin and relaxing his shoulders. It didn’t take more than that second for him to be recognized, blondie cocking an eyebrow before smirking right back at him.

“Well Kent Parson, ain’t that a surprise,” he drawled out and Kent almost tensed. He wasn’t prepared for the way his voice sound like it’s been dipped in honey and dragged through the south. He nodded, leaning his elbows on the bar and tilting his head.

“I’m at a disadvantage, I never got your name,” he smiled a little wider as the bartender turned towards him, ordering a beer of his own. He wasn’t particular on the what, it was just a vehicle to continue this conversation anyway. “Unless Jack’s boyfriend is all I should be calling you.”

“Eric Bittle,” he rolled his eyes at the second part, waving his hand before pushing his fingers through the short sides of his hair. “And what exactly makes you think that, Kenny?”

He almost laughed at that shot, shaking his head and holding a hand up in defense. It was hard not to like the way ‘Kenny’ sounded in that pretty voice. “I got the vibe before.”

“Well your ‘vibe’ ain’t really on the mark,” Eric’s eyes lifted from the bar for the first time, sweeping over Kent in a sort of apprasial. Kent leaned into it, used to being sized up. “I can’t say I’m really a fan of yours.”

“Zimm’s is a big boy, it’s not the first argument he’s ever been in,” he rolled his eyes at that before pausing and sighing. “I am sorry about the way I handled it though. It’s a tough relationship I guess.”

It was easier than he’d thought it would be, standing on the other side of the ice from Jack. It fit better with what they were to each other now, they probably wouldn’t have the same sync that they used to. They were too tainted by broken hearts and venom spat out from both sides. Eric nodded his head slowly, lips curling up into a slow smile. Kent was surprised by how comfortable he felt with this; Eric wasn’t looking at him like they were about to be best friends over these drinks, but he wasn’t the devil anymore either.

“So not-boyfriend, what are you of Jack’s then?” He leaned forward a little more at the question, catching just a hint of the smell of Eric. He’d expected beer and cologne and other sorts of college smells. Instead, it was cinnamon and sugar and the dim memory of sitting in the kitchen with his mother while she cooked for thanksgiving. He could feel the flush on the back of his neck starting and he cursed it internally. Eric didn’t seem to notice, sighing softly and peering up at Kent through his lashes.

“It was easier when I thought I had just fallen for a straight boy again,” his voice was soft and sad but Kent couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the mixture of 'Jack’ and 'straight’. Still, he understood that look in Eric’s eyes all too well and he settled a hand at the small of his back, rubbing the protruding bumps of his spine with a thumb.

“I think I get that,” he agreed, taking a long sip to hopefully ease the raw honesty out of his voice. Eric’s face brightened a little at that, arching into the contact like a contented cat.

“I imagine you do, Mr. Parson.”


	2. I Used To Have A Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't trust me."

“Don’t trust me,” Kent means it seriously when he says it, even if it’s with a shrug of his shoulders. Eric is probably only half awake before the words leave his mouth, but he jolts up with that kind of indignation that he seems only able to muster when it comes to Kent. He pokes one slim finger into the middle of Kent’s naked chest, eyebrows pinched together with an annoyed look wiping away the first clouds of sleep.

“Kent Virgil Parson,” he begins, drawling over Kent’s middle name in a way that usually makes him smile. He almost does until he realizes he’s in legitimate trouble, Eric’s still glaring at him with all the force possible for 5'7" of Southern courtesy. “Do you think I’m the type to listen to someone talk badly about you?”

The question seems out of place, but Kent shakes his head, pushing hair out of his face and starting to say something in response before one of Eric’s warm hands claps over his mouth. He smiles against the skin, quirking an eyebrow upward in permission for Eric to finish whatever he’s so intent on saying.

“Then don't think I’ll let you do it either,” he finishes, boring his eyes into Kent’s before letting go of his face and settling back into the slightly scratchy hotel room sheets. His eyes are lively and bright still, spark of irritation still burning in them. Kent sighs, remains sitting up and for the moment doesn’t look back at Eric.

“I mean it. I don’t wanna be responsible for breaking your heart. This,” he waves a hand vaguely in the air, trying to gesture at the very uncertain nature of the relationship they’ve struck up. “I like it. But it’s not what I’m good at so… Don’t trust me.”

Eric sighs against the pillow, reaching up and pulling Kent so they’re settled facing one another. He shakes his head against the pillow before leaning forward and pressing his lips against Kent’s with a ghost of a sigh. “I’m a big boy Mr. Parson. You’re not responsible for me.”

Kent returns the kiss before closing his eyes and letting Eric snuggle into his arms. He’s never had anyone else like this. There are plenty of notches in Kent’s bedpost, including the one cut so deeply by Jack Zimmermann that it nearly broke the bed altogether. But he and Jack didn’t just lay around an cuddle, he can count on one hand the number of times they had sex in an actual bed. This is different; there’s something real and lasting right within his grasp, dozing off in his arms.

Kent’s not sure he’s ever been so fucking terrified.


	3. Just Give Me A Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't have to stay."

“You don’t have to stay,” usually when Eric talks Kent thinks of the first sip of good bourbon; spiced and heavy with just the right kind of burn settling in the pit of his stomach. Now it’s like hitting the ice without pads, Eric’s back is turned to him and his shoulders are rigid and straight and Kent can feel the cold from his words dripping down the back of his neck. It makes him shiver just a little, hesitating halfway between Eric standing at the window of his room and the door. The rest of the frat house is still booming with the party going on downstairs and Eric hasn’t pulled his shirt back on yet, Kent can see teeth marks at the junction of his shoulder.

He wants to remind Eric that he knows that; he’s Kent Parson and he doesn’t have to do shit that he doesn’t want to. Instead he stands like a lost ship, anchored in the middle of the room with his pants somewhere between done up and not and he’s lost for words. 

At least part of him is, the part that had heard Eric whisper ‘I love you’ before he came thick ropes over his chest with Kent still thrusting inside him. It was so soft that Kent didn’t think it was meant for him to hear at all. The part of him that had stood across the hall from this room a year ago and shouted the worst things he could think of at Jack’s face was feeling extremely talkative.

Well, Kent huffs a sigh, steels himself and steps forward to wrap his arms around Eric’s back, that Kent can go fuck himself he decides. Eric jolts a little at the contact, looking over his shoulder at Kent with eyes that are wide and wet. He probably thought Kent had already walked away, instead he hugs Eric a little closer and closes his eyes, inhaling the cinnamon scent that drifts off his skin all the time and closes his eyes, mumbling against the bruise he left. “Say it again.”

Eric’s neck flushes against his cheek and Kent opens one eye to follow it to the tips of his ears. Eric doesn’t try to turn around so Kent strokes the muscles of his stomach in slow circles, planting a warm kiss to the side of Eric’s neck in encouragement. He’s not sure yet if he feels it, but he sure as shit knows he wants to hear Eric say it again, probably for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” Eric’s voice is as quiet as the first time like he’s telling a secret to the air outside his window rather than to Kent. He pushes his face against Eric’s neck again to hide the fact that he can’t stop grinning like a fucking idiot even though he’s sure Eric can feel it pressed there. That’s okay, now they both have secrets. Kent nods his head and sighs out warm and slow.

“Yeah, I’m good with that,” he laughs softly, letting Eric turn around as he shifts and dodging away from the swat aimed at his shoulders. Eric’s smiling though and Kent endures the next hit to lean in and kiss him. He isn’t sure he knows what love is really, but maybe it’s the giddy bubble that bursts to life in his stomach every time he thinks about Eric like champagne on his tongue. Maybe after Eric falls asleep with his arms curled around Kent he whispers it into the not-quite quiet air to test the words in his mouth. Maybe it feels like lifting the cup over his head again, not too heavy to carry around for the rest of his life.


End file.
